


The Girl is Taking Bets

by stardropdream (orphan_account)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/F, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England goes to America's apartment to pick her up for the New Years party, and is faced with a half-naked America. The result is not nearly as sexy as England would probably like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Girl is Taking Bets

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ December 24, 2010. 
> 
> Holiday fic for ode_to_a! Her request: "fem!England/fem!America, American put some goddamn clothes on do you not realise how cold it is." Not sure if this QUITE what you had in mind, Alys, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! I switched back to nation names instead of human names for this, cause I couldn't think of girl names I liked. Also idk how the fics I write with one or both genderbent ends up being kinda sexual every time... I guess this is my disappointment in the lack of yuri in this fandom manifesting itself, ha ha.

When England went to pick America up so they could make their way towards the annual New Years party attended by the nations, she really hadn’t expected for America to throw open the door wearing only her undergarments and a look of utter relief.  
  
“England!” she said, loudly, pushing her slightly damp hair from her face, big blue eyes shining. “You’re here! Great, come in, come in!”   
  
“What are—put some clothes on!” England shouted, struggling in America’s hold. “Do you have any idea how damned cold it is outside, you daft fool?”   
  
America rolled her eyes and tugged on England’s hand, guiding her towards her bedroom, where the entire room was in massive disarray. England felt as if her face would never stop being quite as red as it felt. America grinned, completely oblivious to the complete manner of indecency England had suddenly found herself thrust into. America’s hair, still damp from a shower, clung to her neck, tips of her hair brushing across her shoulders—her horribly bare shoulders. England silently damned the girl for being so completely shameless as to greet England in only her underwear and her bra. It only made her face heat up more.   
  
“Put some goddamn clothes on,” England snapped when America still didn’t seem to be taking great pains to get some clothes on.  
  
“Doi!” she said, and puffed her cheeks up. “I _want_ to, but I dunno what to wear! That’s where you came in!”   
  
“Why the hell…” she started, and then sighed angrily. “This is the last time I take pity on daft girls. Coming here out of the kindness of my own heart to drive you to the party…”  
  
“Oh shut up, you and I both know who’s going to be the designated driver come midnight,” America protested, and waved her hand dismissively. Then she adjusted one of her bra straps as it slipped down off her shoulder, the fabric slumping a little over a round breast. England tried very hard not to stare, and, surprisingly, succeeded in averting her gaze. “But seriously, England. I need your help! I don’t know which dress to wear!”   
  
“Just wear whichever,” England moaned. “We’re going to be late now.”  
  
“Oh whatever, being half an hour late won’t mean all the alcohol’s going to disappear, you hopeless lush,” America said, and bent over, picking up two dresses. “Which one do you like?”  
  
“Why does it matter what I like?” England muttered.  
  
“Englaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand,” America whined. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging here!”  
  
“I recall you saying my style is atrocious,” England said.   
  
“So I’ll pick the opposite of whichever one you like,” America said with a shrug. “But tell me!” She shook the dresses for affect, practically thrusting them up into England’s face.”   
  
England sighed a sigh of long-suffering, her eternal pain and aggravation. She did these things to herself, of course, but being friends with such a foolish girl.   
  
“I just want to look niiiiice,” America whined, and then lowered the dress to pose a little, one hip jutting up. “I’m even wearing my sexy underwear! How do I look?”  
  
England didn’t answer and instead turned pointedly away, stalking over to America’s vanity, where some makeup was thrown haphazardly across the surface. She could still see America in the mirror, but she pretended she wasn’t looking and instead organized the make-up, pushing the mascara into one corner, the lipstick into another, and arranging the other cosmetics as she saw fit.  
  
“Big plans for tonight?” she asked, and couldn’t quite stop her words from being tight, couldn’t quite disguise the venom.  
  
But America, as always, completely missed the detection of poison in England’s words. “Maybe,” she said, vaguely, and shrug her shoulders. “But not really. Sometimes you can just want to look sexy for yourself, yeah? It’s empowering and shit. Knowing you’re wearing something sexy for yourself, and not necessary for—”  
  
“A man?” England interrupted, and threw some foundation onto the table and stalked away, back towards America, who beamed when England came closer to her. She held up the dresses again for England’s inspection.   
  
“Maybe,” she said again, and shook the dresses.   
  
“Are these the only two choices?” England asked, eyeing the five other dresses strewn across the bed.   
  
America looked where England was looking. “Oh,” she said. “No, those are choices, too. I guess I can’t just narrow it down, ha ha!” She paused, looking at the dresses, and then said, “Your dress is nice.”   
  
England felt her cheeks flushed. “I, thank y—”  
  
“I’m shocked, usually you suck at dressing yourself!” America interrupted.   
  
England bristled immediately. “As if you’re much better! Maybe you should just wear some shorts and go as you are! Heaven knows you dress like that almost every other day!”   
  
America puffed up her lips, looking properly scandalized. She pushed her wet hair away from her face again, fiddling with her bangs. “I’m not going in just my _bra_ , England. It’s a fancy party! Not all of us strip when we start drinking…”  
  
“For fuck’s sake,” England cursed.  
  
“Hand me my hairbrush, will you?” America asked, bending down over the bed and adjusting some of the dresses, lining them all up to stare at them.   
  
England didn’t quite hear the question, distracted by the way America bent over, wearing next to nothing. She was freshly showered, so water still clung to her skin in places, fresh and smooth. England felt her lips thin out at the indecency with which America flaunted herself, but didn’t have enough time to act properly scandalized before she turned around and grabbed the hairbrush off from the vanity. Turning, she chucked it at America’s head.  
  
“Ouch!” America said, and then laughed. She stuck out her tongue as she picked the brush up and lifted her arms, combing her fingers through her hair as she brushed. “You’re a jerk.”   
  
England just stared at her for a while, at the way America’s body was arched as she brushed, smiling absently. If it wasn’t for such a girlish face and a ridiculous personality, England suspected she could be a very sophisticated woman. England couldn’t help but wonder if the undergarments really was America’s sexiest.   
  
“I should probably have used the blow-dryer,” America mused. Then sighed. “But it’s always so boring just sitting there.”  
  
“You are impossible,” England said, tearing her eyes away from America again and pointing. “That dress.”   
  
America turned to look where England was pointing at, and picked up a strapless black and white dress.   
  
America regarded it for a moment, and then looked up at England. England frowned at her. “Don’t you dare say it’s the ugliest of them all.”   
  
“No,” America said. And then grinned. “I’ll wear it.”   
  
She walked up to England, much to England’s surprise, and pushed the dress into her hands.   
  
“Hold it for me,” America commanded and then turned away, hands curling behind her back and unhooking her bra.  
  
“WHA— _What are you doing_?” England shrieked.  
  
“Duh! It’s a strapless dress! I won’t need the bra,” America said, with a roll of her eyes as she turned her head to look over her shoulder at England. “Don’t tell me you wear a strapped bra with a strapless dress, England. That’s weird.”   
  
England muttered some quiet curses as America removed the straps from her bra and hooked it back on, hands adjusting her breasts with a cheerful whistle that didn’t suit the action. England blushed bright red and muttered something about propriety and decency. America ignored her, as always.   
  
“Would you just get dressed already?” England muttered, holding the dress out to America.  
  
America laughed, smiling brightly at England, and pulling the dress on. England had to help her with the zipper, and once it was on, it did look very nice on her.   
  
“Aren’t I pretty?” America asked.  
  
England’s nose twitched. “Can we just go already?”  
  
America pouted, and sat down to pull on her heels, strapping them into place. England just stared at her legs and hated how she was probably going to be uncomfortable for the rest of the night thanks to an oblivious girl like America.   
  
“Ta da!” America said once she was gone, throwing her hands into the air as she jumped up. “Ready!”   
  
And with that, America started strolling towards the door. England watched her go, sputtered, and dove into America’s closet, grabbing the first jacket she could get her hands on and chasing after her.  
  
“Would you _put some goddamn clothes on?_ ” she shouted after America even as America marched triumphantly through the front door and was met with bitter cold wind and the threat of snow and ice. “It’s damned cold outside, you ninny!”   
  
America just laughed as England dove onto her, forcing her into a jacket and covering her up. She’d be damned if America froze her ass off. And it’d be good to cover that damn woman for as long as possible.   
  
England hoped there was a lot of alcohol at the party.


End file.
